Knopf

World and Town

mandy — Sun, 21 Nov 2010 08:00:00 +0000

It is really tough to review Gish Jen’s World and Town. The novel is, on the one hand, drawn through an interesting narrative focalizer who often takes on the “wordspeak” of the characters that the narrator observes the representational terrain through. So when the narrative is concentrating on the Cambodian American teenager Sophy, we have the narrator constantly employing words such as like and whatever. Typical teenspeak, we might say. On the other hand, the novel has an exceedingly complex and varied topography in terms of its character webs, where Hattie Kong, one of the ostensible protagonists, is looking after a new family that has moved to the area, a small town in the New England area known as Riverlake (somewhat reminiscent of the continuing movement of ethnic minority populations to such towns as Lowell, MA).

This family (of surname Chhung) is ethnically Chinese, but they had resided in Cambodia and thus survived the genocide perpetuated by Pol Pot’s reign under the Khmer Rouge. Hattie, having more free time as a woman near retirement age, takes it upon herself to help the family out as they adjust to the relatively austere weather conditions in the area. The family is made up of the aforementioned teenager daughter, Sophy, who Hattie particularly finds interesting, hopes to make a deep connection with, and even offers to tutor Sophy in Chinese. There is also Sarun, who is also a teenager, and struggles to move beyond the gang life he lived before.

The family patriarch, Ratanak Chhung, seeks to carve out a new start for his family, with his wife, Mum, and the youngest member of their family, an infant boy named Gift. Sophy’s two sisters, Sopheap and Sophan, are both in foster homes, due to various instabilities prior to the Chhung’s move to Riverlake; some of their desires for a new start appear in the form of Sophy’s attempt to make amends for mistakes she perceived that broke the family apart.

Hattie’s own family life is complicated as she is a widower and dealing with fragments of a relationship with a former colleague and scientist, Carter Hatch, who in part, as Hattie perceives it, led to her dismissal from academia. Hattie’s adult son Josh is relatively aloof and is only seen in the backgrounds of the narrative as he navigates a relationship with a younger woman named Serena. The plot’s tension takes shape when Sophy begins to get involved heavily in church, where Christian indoctrination serves to cool her connection to Hattie, who finds organized religion both odious and unproductive. Sarun, too, fails to completely cut ties with his gang past.

Perhaps, because I have been teaching Virginia Woolf this fall, I couldn’t help but think of some similar resonances. There’s quite a bit of interior monologue and free indirect discourse that grounds World and Town, which can slow down and obfuscate the actual plot progression, but the interiorities we are given access to are quite unique and engaging on their own. In this way, like Jen’s The Love Wife, the novel seems far more interested in characterization than on actual linear plot progression.

There is also a sense of Erdrich, too, in Jen’s work to explore the importance of a regional location and its connections to racial minorities. With the richness and familiarity of a small New England town, Jen makes us aware of the importance of land and community, especially in the remarkable section devoted to Everett, one of the old stalwarts and touchstones of Riverlake. This novel requires a patient reader and World and Town cannot be consumed at a quick pace. It seems perfect for the upcoming winter season where we’ll want to swaddle ourselves in blankets and stay in bed on Saturday evenings.

Cross-posted at Asian American Literature Fans

Written by: Stephen Hong Sohn, November 21st 2010

The Thing Around Your Neck

admin — Mon, 16 Aug 2010 01:00:00 +0000

By Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

Knopf

My friend Francine, who sensibly chose to read English at Cambridge, knowing my insatiable appetite for novels, asked me to taste and see that Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie was good five years ago. I devoured Purple Hibiscus. Sated and ravenous, I only halfheartedly digested Half of a Yellow Sun, because I felt that it did not reflect the brilliance of the first novel—maybe precisely because Purple Hibiscus could not be matched at all in the way it presented the fragrance, colour, and texture of Nigeria.

I must admit that I was not a fan of short stories before this collection, as I have always felt that they were perhaps a lazy man's (or woman's) way out of writer's block. Because I enjoy breathing and living and feeling characters, I also dismissed them because I felt that there was no time to do so in a short story. In The Thing Around Your Neck, Adichie proved me wrong. She catapulted my prejudices towards the short story upside down, deconstructed my theories inside out, and then proved me wrong again.

Adichie in this collection is simply brilliant. Astonishingly, all of her stories are accessible and beautifully written; they are told with poise, in elegant prose, just as one would expect from a contemporary griot. I expected some "old ladies mutterings" of extravagant and unnecessary details, rather like lashings of mache and parsley over perfectly good chicken from an overenthusiastic chef, but this was pleasantly absent; this is a woman who is not wasteful with her ingredients. Her stories, all unapologetically Nigerian in background, context, and flavour, are intentionally international and modern in their treatment of universal themes of displacement, grief, wonderment, and struggle. Her characterisations are believable; her stories never end with the exclamation marks of implausibility, and her style is almost perfect: dutiful and unlaborious. Adichie's economy of words is deliberate and yet, she still manages to march along with a rhythmic cadence. I do not know how she does it.

The Nigeria Adichie presents is not the stereotypical Nigeria that you see in documentaries that typically depict Lagos, of lives obviously so poor and futile and desperate on the streets of an overcrowded city pregnant with corruption. It is not the Nigeria of Nollywood with Mr. Ebu who deals in juju and first wives who cast spells on mistresses. Nor is it the new Nigeria that is now presented on the television programmes of the BBC and CNN—teeming with possibility (i.e., oil), just outside BRIC in terms of development, couched in fancy names such as "premium emerging markets." Adichie’s Nigeria is somewhere in-between.

Her Nigeria is the Nigeria of contradictions, of academics whose wives visit them in their sleep and tickle their balls, of wives of rich Nigerian Big Men who are jealous of their husband's young lovers, of polygamous, monogamous, gay and lesbian Nigeria, of traditional and Pentecostal Nigeria, of matriarchal pride and incredible sexploitation, of the Hausa and Igbo, of ordinary men and women, cold immigrants and warm home. No topic is off bounds and through this collection we are brought along to witness the astonishing resilience and weaknesses in the cultural, racial, and sexual dichotomies and to some extent, trichotomies that exist. This is second and third generation Nigeria, the Nigeria of the movers and shakers and doers and thinkers—a Nigeria which is staking its claim in the world. Adichie's protagonists' commentaries are sometimes humorous and irreverent, sometimes wise but always timely.

If this book had a fault, it would be that Adichie comes across as determinedly feminist. Her female protagonists are powerful, cunning, smart, and are able to form bonds that are natural, easy, and strong. Womanhood and womanly love seem to feature as an unspoken undercurrent. Most of the men appear as side dishes, certainly dispensable, most times inspiring reproach: they are often impractical, predatory, fumbling, and one dimensional. This is not to say that her approach is without merit, as it is possible that through her eyes, we are perhaps witnessing this malaise in male/female relationships and her challenge, therefore, of the natural hierarchy and of the status quo.

Although I am a natural sucker for an immigrant story and, therefore, love "Imitation," "The Thing Around Your Neck," “The American Embassy,” and "The Arrangers of Marriage," my favourite story is "Jumping Monkey Hill" simply because of Adichie’s voice in it, and her method. She uses and improves the Shakespearean technique of the play within a play to construct a story within a story and then, through this, manages to reveal yet more stories with grace and believability. Each of the stories resolve themselves, yet most of them stay with the reader, leaving us hungry for more.

Cross-posted at KimaSpeak

Written by: Akima Paul, August 15th 2010

The Pregnant Widow

admin — Fri, 11 Jun 2010 08:01:00 +0000

By Martin Amis

Knopf

I’m so upset that I’m not at Hay Festival right now. Because the lineup looks phenomenal. Not only is Stephen Fry doing a talk, but Zadie Smith and Martin Amis are both on the lineup. Now, Smith is awesome for all sorts of reasons, and, coincidentally, I actually read White Teeth at Hay Festival last year. But this year I’d be more interested in seeing Amis—which is surprising given that he is a grumpy old man with a penchant for misogyny. Or so the legend goes. He, in fact, denies this claim, and tells us that his book, The Pregnant Widow, is "very feminist"—although he admits it will get him in trouble.

Indeed, it has not been received particularly well from the lovely group of people at BBC 2's The Review Show. Supposedly about the feminist revolution and the destruction that it wreaked on the people who were affected by sexual liberation, I found (as, it seems, did Germaine Greer) that there was an awful lot of focus on body parts. Scheherazade has big tits. Gloria has a big arse. And Keith’s girlfriend Lily has neither. That seems to be all that matters for a lot of the book. Keith’s main mission is to sleep with as many of the girls as possible, and then (spoiler alert) he marries all of them in succession.

The characterisation of the female characters is weak. Scheherazade is a ridiculous appropriation of the "poor little rich girl" stereotype, lifted from a piece of chick lit where marriage is the only goal. (I am aware that comment is derogatory to chick lit and, as I am reading a book about that very subject at the moment, I thus present this long back-covering disclaimer.) Scheherazade is the only woman who ends up happy, because she gets married and has kids, ignoring the sexual liberation movement. Woop. Well done, girl.

Violet, however, Keith’s free-spirited sister, gets destroyed. Killed off because she has too much sex. She is apparently based on Amis’ own sister, Sally, whom he is convinced was killed by her promiscuity, or some other such ridiculous reason. Maybe it had actually nothing to do with feminism, and neither does the demise of Violet, who appears to have mental health issues and is dire need of help. That is why she dies—not because feminists allowed women their sexual agency and made it less (not completely) shameful to have sex as a woman.

Keith is an overly whiny character. He needs to get some courage and just deal with his issues. He always seems to want to blame someone else for his own failings in life—and it’s irritating. He is not a lovable character and, quite honestly, I’m not rooting for him for most of the novel. Or any of it, actually.

Despite all this, and despite Amis’ desire to elevate his own (or Keith’s own, although it’s supposed to be semi-autobiographical) struggle to a higher level by associating it with 1970s feminism, I really enjoyed The Pregnant Widow. The personal is not always political, which I think Amis might need to think about before he tries this sort of thing again, and despite it making me angry every now and again (particularly the pretentiousness of Keith’s character), I liked it.

The Pregnant Widow is evocative, well-written, and clever, and the story is enjoyable. (Although I do feel it tapers out a bit when we get into serious mid-life crisis territory.) It’s not the usual "zOMG look how postmodern I am" offering from Amis, and I really liked it. Maybe even loved it.

Written by: Amy Elizabeth Richards, June 11th 2010

Half the Sky: Turning Oppression into Opportunity for Women Worldwide

admin — Thu, 07 Jan 2010 17:01:00 +0000

By Nicholas Kristof, Sheryl WuDunn

Knopf

In Half the Sky, Nicholas Kristof and Sheryl WuDunn lay out a powerful argument about the importance of development work paying heed to gender. Since both Kristoff and WuDunn are well-known and respected journalists, this book will undoubtedly be widely read and influence policy and practice. Skillfully composed of narratives of women’s plight and resistance in Africa and Asia, the authors incorporate scientific and policy research to support their argument. They attempt to outline some of the most significant ways in which women’s oppression plays out; through sex slavery, inadequate maternal health care, rape, and lack of education. The book is obviously a labor of love, and the couple draws their first person narratives from their travels around the globe to bear witness to these situations.

Kristof and WuDunn deal respectfully with issues of cultural relativity, including an insightful and knowledgeable chapter on Islam and its relationship to sexism and women, but they fall short of thoroughly addressing issues of power and privilege in their own relationships to the issues. While they allude several times to critiques of cultural imperialism—mentioning women who have challenged them on their presence and role in the struggles of women from the variety of countries included here—they never seem to delve into the matter deeply, offering blanket statements about morality that are supposed to supersede these critiques.

The authors pay lip service to the leadership of the women most affected by the issues at hand; they also write with a clear intention of encouraging involvement of affluent Americans of all genders through philanthropic and missionary projects. Without passing judgment on these sorts of interventions, what was missing in their analysis was a clear role for the history of colonization and neoliberalism in shaping the relationships between the US and Africa and Asia.

This book will undoubtedly serve as a call to arms to take more seriously the issues facing poor women in Africa and Asia. My only worry is that in ignoring the role of colonialism and capitalism in shaping these problems, the solutions offered will fall short. In one of the final chapters, the authors defend sweatshops from liberal critiques, arguing that because garment work employs women and elevates their economic status above men’s, they can only be a good thing. While sweatshops may, in fact, provide an important source of income for women in impoverished countries, I find their blindness to the ethical and moral implications of such labor practices in contradiction with their righteous stances against sex slavery and other abhorrent practices.

All in all, Half the Sky is an educational and accessible read. The authors have clearly done their research and present an arsenal of knowledge and narrative that supports their call to action. In the midst of economic crisis, while we bear witness to the collapse of American capitalism, I hesitate to endorse a strategy of empowerment for women in “developing countries” that is a path to the same. Perhaps other readers will be inspired to find more creative solutions than the ones offered by the authors.

Written by: Katrina Forman, January 7th 2010

The Red Blazer Girls: The Ring of Rocamadour

admin — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 23:32:00 +0000

By Michael D. Beil

Knopf

I should come clean about this now: I was a total mystery addict as a kid. Nancy Drew, Encyclopedia Brown, and The Boxcar Children were my favorites. I jumped at the chance to review a new mystery that claimed to follow in the same tradition.

The Red Blazer Girls: The Ring of Rocamadour, by New York City high school teacher Michael D. Beil, has the requisite Nancy Drew cover homage: three girls sneaking through dark shadows. A call-out graphic promises, “A puzzling mystery! A mystery with puzzles!” Three hundred pages made for a satisfying heft in my hand. Before I started reading, I found myself wondering if a story written by a male teacher could realistically communicate the distinct voices of three modern young women.

The answer is... sort of. The way the girls act is modern, funny, and intelligent, but I found the dialogue a bit flat. It’s like a pastiche of the slightly stilted cadence more associated with Nancy Drew and her sidekicks, Bess and George. Once I accepted this, the book was a fun, well-paced blast. Encouragements to have a go at solving clues made up of word puzzles and numerical equations before turning the page are good-natured and persuasive. I found myself willingly stretching my brain into mathematical shapes I hadn’t attempted since eighth grade, and was rewarded by more twists and excitement as the story led to its gripping and well-constructed conclusion.

Beil’s characterizations are thoughtful and thorough. The three young detectives are strong, positive role models. They are seen working hard at several academic subjects and looking cool doing so, challenging bullying behavior within their own friendship group, and supporting friends to pursue their ambitions. Their client, introduced as a "mad old lady," could easily have remained one-dimensional, but is instead developed into a quirky and capable character in her own right. Beil also seems to have written himself into the story as the girls’ Dickens-loving English teacher who regularly supports their escapades, which, while indulgent, makes their adventures more plausible.

I discovered fairly quickly that the girls attend a Catholic school. The story swiftly introduces the school, its affiliated church, and likable clergymen--all of which become important to the plot. Indeed, the mystery itself involves treasure hunters searching for an ancient relic. Organized religion in general and Catholicism in particular can be divisive topics, particularly when viewing this book from a feminist perspective, so I felt it was important to mention it. The book’s promotional material and website leave this information out, which seems slightly, but needlessly, clandestine. It was actually very refreshing to read a book where cultural, rather than religious, Catholicism is presented in a way that felt realistic and honest to me as a New Yorker from a half-Catholic (both practicing and ‘recovering’) background.

Speaking of the website, it was pretty sparse in general, which isn’t in keeping with the gadget-tastic lives of these modern girls. Knopf is doing Beil and his readers a disservice and should up their web presence to maintain interest until the next book. (Jasper Fforde’s playful, literary-based mysteries for grownups have outstanding supporting material online, for example.)

By the end of the book, I’d decided that The Red Blazer Girls: The Ring of Rocamadour did live up to its promises, and was clearly written by a fan of the genre. I think it would best suit ten- to twelve-year-olds. I’d also certainly recommend this book to Catholic school libraries in the U.S. and abroad, because it does present a very hip and modern image of the school, teachers, and priests. Parents who choose to limit their children’s organized religion intake shouldn’t dismiss The Red Blazer Girls: The Ring of Rocamadour, though; it doesn’t proselytize, and its setting provides a unique world that will make this series stand out.

I suspect even Nancy Drew would enjoy it.

Written by: Chella Quint, October 15th 2009

Heart and Soul

admin — Wed, 03 Jun 2009 17:20:00 +0000

By Maeve Binchy

Knopf

As much as I'm addicted to hard news and biography, Maeve Binchy's novels are my guilty pleasure. If you're into this genre (think chick lit with substance) you won't be disappointed with Heart and Soul, the Irish novelist's latest book. Set in (where else?) Dublin, the book chronicles a year in the life of employees and patients of a new heart clinic.

Scrambling both for clinic funds and a smoother personal life, protagonist Clara Casey, a cardiologist, is one of Binchy's most feminist characters to date. She is also a well-drawn and likable one: successful but humble, compassionate yet hard as nails when she needs to be. Casey has given herself a year to succeed at what was at first an unwanted job, after being passed over for a more prestigious position. In the meantime, she hopes to sort out her difficult adult daughters, her nearly-ex-husband, and a budding romance with a boring man.

This book is actually full of strong, independent female characters of all ages, ranging from the young, hopeful immigrant who is hired to do chores at the office to the foreign language teacher who is skeptical about her husband's treatments at the clinic.

Fans will be delighted to see characters from several of Binchy's other books (Scarlet Feather, Quentins, Nights of Rain and Stars, Whitethorn Woods) return alongside new ones that are equally well-drawn. Then there's the delightful backdrop of Irish neighborhoods so cozy and intimate that everyone seems to know everyone.

Spoiler alert: My only gripe reading Heart and Soul is that Binchy, in her constant quest to reward her characters with happiness, sets the stage for a romantic dalliance with a couple of people who spend most of the book at each other's throats. And out of nowhere, they're dancing and he's asking her out? Hello!

Other than that, this is a fast read and a sweet escape from the daily grind. If you like Maeve, you will love this one.

Written by: M.L. Madison, June 3rd 2009

Unaccustomed Earth

admin — Sun, 17 Aug 2008 22:32:00 +0000

By Jhumpa Lahiri

Knopf

In this stunning collection of stories, Pulitzer Prize winner Jhumpa Lahiri takes the reader from the East Coast of the United States to India and Thailand and back, allowing us inside the homes and hotel rooms of warring lovers, conflicted families, and jealous roommates. Having read both of her previous books, The Namesake and Interpreter of Maladies, I was the most impressed with Unaccustomed Earth.

Be forewarned that the pieces in this volume—stories of greater length with more heart-tugging than the ones in Interpreter of Maladies—don't always have clean or pleasant endings. One protagonist is finished off by a flood triggered by the 2005 tsunami, and self-immolation is a recurring theme. More than once, I finished a story with multiple questions that I couldn't answer. But then, perhaps, that's her point: in fiction, as in life, problems can't always be resolved by the end of the chapter.

One recurring theme in Lahiri’s books is the conflict between first generation Indian immigrant parents and their second generation American-born children in that the parents resist their children's Americanization while the children resist their parents' Indian-ness. While Lahiri has been criticized by some who say her portrayals don't represent all Bengalis who have come to the United States, it’s an interesting and sometimes painful look into the conflicts that emigration and change create for some families, regardless of their origin.

The stories in this volume are beautifully written, in language so descriptive that you’ll easily picture the scenes as you read about them. Lahiri’s characters are drawn so realistically that you’ll find yourself rooting for or against them. If there’s anything that leaves the reader unsatisfied, it will only be that the book isn’t longer.

Written by: M.L. Madison, August 17th 2008

Still Life with Husband

admin — Mon, 02 Apr 2007 21:23:00 +0000

By Lauren Fox

Knopf

“Why would a woman - and it seems like it’s always women - do that to herself?”

And so starts the musings of Lauren Fox in Still Life with Husband. Stuck in a world where gender roles are spilling into every aspect of her life, Emily is struggling to resist the urge to conform and dealing with the onslaught of confusion that her refusal is causing. At 30, Emily’s biological clock hasn’t even been set, a fact that’s a hard realization to her husband and those around her, such as her mother who is desperate to be a grandmother and her pregnant best friend, Meg. Her husband and her best friend are moving in separate directions and Emily watches as they slip out of her realm of the world and into a place that she is completely unfamiliar with.

In her debut novel, Lauren Fox weaves a story of friendship and marriage in this novel that tugs on your heartstrings in a completely honest, yet entertaining way. Fox successfully muddies the lines of right and wrong as she takes the reader on a story about personal survival and hurting someone you love.

I am Emily. I’ve been Emily before or at least, I’ve wanted to be. The raw and uncensored emotion that Fox creates leads the reader feeling a barrage of emotions as they turn each page. Fox describes the portrait of an honest woman who is not content to slip into her expected role of a doting wife and mother while exploring the notion of a woman getting exactly what she wants and dealing with the consequences of it.

Still Life with Husband mixes the humorous and honest story of a woman who you know, the woman you have been, or the woman you’ve madly tried to understand.

Written by: Megan Blair, April 2nd 2007